Tragic Love Mafia Short Stories & Novels

On the first day of my rebirth, I turn straight into the bedroom of Don Raffaele Caruso and begin undoing my clothes. In my previous life, I was in a marriage of convenience with his son, Matteo Caruso, but there was no love between us. We were notorious in Liberty City's mafia circle. Matteo believed I was the reason he lost his first love. He thought I had deliberately gone into his room the night he was drugged with an aphrodisiac, trapping him in a marriage. Hence, for eight years after our wedding, he stayed out drunk every night and refused to come home. Even when I went into obstructed labor and was on the brink of death, he never asked about me even once. Then, the hurricane came. A storm surge swallowed Liberty City. The harbor collapsed under the waves, and there was only one seat left on the evacuation boat. Everyone thought Matteo would keep it for himself. Instead, he shoved me hard onto the boat. "Go! I'm giving you my chance to live, Chiara. If there's a next life, don't come saving me again. I just want to be with Lucia." The next second, his body was dragged into the pitch-black sea. I survived, only to be hacked to death by a rival family afterward. What Matteo never knew was that he wasn't the only one who was drugged that night. His father was too. This time around, I step into the room just as the effects of the aphrodisiac take hold. Raffaele is currently forcing himself to endure it, his control stretched to the limit. I walk over and say softly, "Let me be your antidote, Don Caruso."

My older sister, Jovina Valenti, catches the eye of the cold and ruthless mafia Don, Carlo Laguardia. However, she fears the danger that arises out of his identity and wants to go abroad to pursue a passionate romance. On the day Carlo sends his men to retrieve her, she drugs my drink and sends me to Carlo. After that, she leaves the country and disappears completely. I, Nerissa Valenti, am forced to become Carlo's wife. He treats me as nothing more than a pet. Despite being married, I ignore Carlo's existence and treat him as if he were invisible. He, on the other hand, continues to make me his pet. When he's pleased with me, he shows me affection. But when I upset him, what awaits me is either cold neglect or harsh reproach. After eight years of this, one day, Carlo suddenly orders that I be locked inside the freezing ice house. I tremble from the cold. When I see Jovina at his side, I realize belatedly that she has, for some reason, decided to return to the country. The first thing she does upon her return is seek Carlo out and lie to him that I drugged myself back then to take her place. Consequently, she was heartbroken and decided to go overseas. Jovina stresses that because of my interference, they spent eight long years being apart from each other. From that moment on, there isn't a trace of emotion left in Carlo's eyes when he looks at me. Under the excuse of visiting me, Jovina comes to the ice house and tampers with the settings. She puts the cold air on full blast at the lowest temperature. "Don't blame me for this, Nerissa. As long as you're alive, my lie will be exposed sooner or later," she says ruthlessly. I don't even last half a day before freezing to death miserably. When I open my eyes again, I return to the day Jovina first catches Carlo's attention. This time, I take the initiative to say, "Jovina, go abroad and look for your true love. I'll marry Carlo in your place." This time, the one Carlo loves will be me.

Everyone in Ieplad knows Leopoldo Vece, the Don of the Vece family, loves guns but not women—until me. Ten years into our marriage, my adoptive father, Raffaello Conti, lies dying of kidney failure. Leopoldo launches a global hunt for a donor, sparing no expense to save him. He finds her—a young, fragile woman—and spends millions solving her every problem to ensure she is ready for the transplant. On the day of the surgery, she vanishes. I rush to her home in a panic, only to find my husband holding her gently in his arms, soothing her in a soft voice. "If you're afraid of the pain, don't donate then. I'll find another donor." "Is there time?" she asks quietly. "I heard Lucia's adoptive father is at death's door." Leopoldo brushes his hand over her hair, his voice indulgent. "I'll search the world again if I have to. You're still young; this burden isn't yours to carry." As my heart shatters, my phone rings. I answer numbly. The person on the other end of the line says, "Signora Conti, we regret to inform you that Raffaello Conti just passed away. We waited as long as we could for the donor, but his body gave out five minutes ago." I return to the hospital and handle the funeral arrangements alone. After that, I call Marianna D'Andrea, the Don's mother, and say, "I agree to divorce Leopoldo. Please help me disappear."

Gianna Rossi struggled in the slums for over a decade before she accidentally discovered she was the biological daughter of the don of the Ricci famiglia, also known as the Gray Wolf famiglia, Domenico Ricci. She tried to reunite with her family, only to be ruthlessly driven away by the Soldati outside the estate. They left her battered and bruised. Her lover, Matteo Santoro, wiped the blood from her wounds and swore he would infiltrate the famiglia himself to seek revenge against the Ricci family's fake Principessa on her behalf. Once he successfully seized power and took control of the Riccis' arms operation, he would restore Gianna to her rightful place as the cherished daughter of the Ricci family. She believed in his sacrifice and endurance. She hid in the shadows as his secret lover, convinced that his public displays with the fake Principessa were nothing but an act. Yet one night, Matteo got engaged to the fake Principessa. Gianna stood in the corner wearing a server's uniform, watching their happiness unfold. She was a fool who had been played for.

As my due date approached, a massive discrepancy surfaced in the Galante family's arms accounts. The leadership made a swift decision. They sent me, Sophia Vitale, the Don's wife, the woman everyone claimed had nothing better to do, to personally inspect the armory and verify the inventory. I believed it was a routine check. I never imagined my husband's godsister, Monica Leone, would use it as cover to blow up the entire armory. The explosion was deafening. Fire ripped through the sky. Concrete collapsed around me, crushing my body as a searing pain tore through my abdomen. I did not call my husband on his highest-priority private line. Instead, I sent a distress signal to my father. In my previous life, the moment the explosion occurred, I had used that same priority channel to call my husband. The child had survived. Monica had been obliterated in the blast. My husband had claimed he did not blame me. He had said Monica was an outsider and that an heir mattered more. He had spared no expense, hiring elite obstetric specialists to monitor me day and night. He had told me to stay calm and wait for delivery. Then, on the day I went into labor, he personally locked me and the baby inside an abandoned warehouse drenched in gasoline and burned us alive. "If you hadn't deliberately delayed, she wouldn't have died. Do you really think playing the innocent victim could fool me? Dream on," he said. "You like playing with fire so much? Fine. I'll let you experience her despair yourself." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the armory, at the exact moment of the explosion.

I was Don Alexander's most skilled assassin and Consigliere, and also his secret wife. But for five years of our secret marriage, he never allowed our son to call him Dad. He always said that the enemy families were constantly watching our family, and that I and our son were his only weakness, so this was to protect us. I believed him, and silently helped him manage all the family affairs, until his first love, Bella, returned with a five-year-old boy. He booked out the entire Disneyland for them to play all day. That day was my son's birthday, and he stubbornly waited for his father to come home, holding a melting cake. I completely lost hope and made a phone call: "Help me cancel my and Leo's identities and erase all our information." But when my son and I truly disappeared, the powerful Don went mad, searching the entire world for traces of us...

My best friend Chloe and I married into the mob. We married two brothers. I married the monster, Don Adriano. She married his wild younger brother, Lorenzo. It was an arranged marriage. I expected nothing. His heart belonged to his childhood sweetheart, Isabella. Then my father died. My autistic brother, Leo, became my world. I signed over my family’s entire shipping empire to Adriano. He held me that night. Kissed the tears from my eyes. He swore he’d protect us forever. I believed him. That was my mistake. Three days ago, a rival family hit us. They left Leo bleeding out in my arms. I got him to our private hospital. It was empty. Not a single doctor on duty. I called Adriano, screaming for help. He had sent every last doctor to Isabella’s villa. "A storm's coming. Isabella is terrified of thunder. The stress could trigger her heart condition. I can't risk it. Your brother has a scratch. Patch him up. I’ll deal with it tomorrow." He hung up. While Isabella slept safely in his arms, I lost my brother. I cried all night, holding Leo's cold body. When I woke up, I told Chloe I wanted a divorce. She held me, sobbing. She said she was leaving Lorenzo, too. The Moretti brothers didn't know a thing until they were both served divorce papers. Then they went insane.

My husband of five years turned out to be the long-lost heir of the Rhys mafia family. On the day he was brought back into the family, he took our son by the hand and walked toward a million-dollar luxury car with Isla, his childhood sweetheart. Then, frowning slightly, he said to me, “Hazel, I’m only taking Isla and our son with me. You stay here for now. Once I’ve secured my footing in the Rhys family, I’ll come back for you.” I nodded calmly and accepted his arrangement without protest. I knew that even if I forced my way back with him, it wouldn’t end well. In my previous life, I cried and insisted on going with him. Left with no choice, Sam brought me back to the family. However, it wasn’t long before Isla framed me, accusing me of leaking the Rhys mafia family's secrets. According to family rules, I was sentenced to death. When the verdict was carried out, my son shouted at me with reddened eyes. “I hate you! If you hadn’t insisted on coming back, I wouldn’t have had a traitor for a mother! I would’ve had a better mom a long time ago!” In that instant, my heart gave out. Reborn to the moment before my husband reclaimed his identity, I chose to let go without hesitation this time, no longer standing in the way of the happiness he and our son wanted.

Everyone knows that the mafia Don's only son, Antonio Gatti, gets to choose a completely new mistress of his own once every three months. Women who are in dire need of money and have no other option left in life will flock to Antonio's wife, Martina Russo, to apply for the position. If they get to spend a night with Antonio, they'll receive a million dollars. Those who are capable of giving birth to his heir will receive half of his family fortune. There are so many women who want to latch onto Antonio as their ticket to wealth. As for me, Martina, I become the hottest piece of gossip in the entire mafia underworld. "Just what sort of lethal leverage does the Gatti family have over Martina to the point that she can tolerate her husband's whims to this degree?" Everyone is very sure that I will submit to the Gatti family's influence and live a humiliating life for as long as I draw breath. That is, until Antonio brings a young woman named Camilla Ferrara home one day. Camilla is an ordinary woman, and yet she's capable of transforming Antonio, a cold-blooded and violent man, into a completely different person. He gets rid of all his other mistresses for her sake. He cleanses every inch of himself three whole times because she claims that he's filthy. Antonio has become obsessed with Camilla. He tells me, "Camilla is a pure and innocent angel; unlike you, whose hands are completely stained with filthy blood. Your heart is as dirty as the rest of you." He seems to have forgotten that I've done those filthy things just so I can get rid of all the obstacles in his way in order to protect the Gatti family's legacy. On the day Mamma passed away from her illness, Antonio prepared a huge fireworks show that's capable of lighting up the entire sky above New Wis City just to celebrate Camilla's birthday. After that, I find out that Antonio has the gall to dump my mamma's ashes into the fireworks assembly on Camilla's birthday. They end up combusting alongside the rest of the fireworks that night. I toss the divorce agreement in his face with all my might. At the same time, I unlatch the safety on the pistol that's hidden in my sleeve before pointing it at him and Camilla. "I'm giving you two choices right now. Option one—sign the divorce agreement and file for a divorce with me, which entitles me to half of the Gatti family's fortune. Option two—die together with your beloved mistress so that you can go to hell and apologize to Mamma there."

The Don of the Vito family, Damiano Vito, has broken his wedding vows by cheating on me with the daughter of the rival mafia family, Bianca Sorace, while I'm still pregnant with his heir. He ends up executing Bianca with his own hands in order to reassure me as well as provide my family, the Cappas, with a satisfactory answer. My parents advise me, "Now that Damiano has returned to your side, you mustn't kick up a fuss for the sake of both families' interests." But since then, I've developed an obsession over cleanliness. Any form of physical contact is capable of making me dry-heave out of discomfort. Since I can't take any medication at all, I can only spend my days venting my stress by demanding that everything be disinfected before touching me. Damiano, who's known for having a violent temperament, is willing to keep disinfecting himself repeatedly for my sake. If he needs to make physical contact with me, he'll wear gloves. Whenever he enters my room, he has to change into a biohazard suit. No matter how hot and stuffy it gets under the suit, he doesn't utter a word of complaint. "It's fine. I was the one who broke the wedding vows first, anyway." Finally, the moment I command Damiano to wash his hands yet again, he loses control of himself before me. He even goes so far as to shatter the ashtray right before my eyes. "That's enough! All I did was make the mistake every man is capable of making! Must you humiliate me to this degree? How does that make me a filthy man?" Damiano deliberately allows his subordinates, who are drenched in blood, to throw a party in the estate, thinking that it serves as a punishment for my obsession over cleanliness. He intends to force me to yield to him by threatening the baby in my belly. Thanks to the nonstop aggravation, I feel intense pain flaring from my abdomen. Soon, blood keeps oozing down my inner thighs beneath my skirt. But at the same time, I feel a sense of relief that I've never felt before. "Let's get a divorce, Damiano."

My parents were branded as "traitors" within the Lucchese family. To show the family's mercy, I was taken in as their "sacrificial lamb" to atone for my parents' sins, and I lived with them for 12 years. Those 12 brutal years would have been unbearable if not for one thing: the Don, Antonio Lucchese, had twin heirs who became my only protection. Until that night, when they believed Martina Browne's lies about me and handed me the execution poison known as "The Vow of Silence." "Drink it, Chiara Colombo." Dante Lucchese's voice was cold, his eyes fixed on me. "Prove your loyalty to the Lucchese family." I drank the poison, and it burned through my throat like acid. Through my blurred vision, I watched as his twin brother, Enzo Lucchese, pulled the real traitor close to him. He said coldly, "Take Chiara to the infirmary. Don't let her die in the banquet hall." The day I was released from the hospital, I made a phone call to the Lucchese family's deadliest rival. My voice was hoarse as I spoke each word slowly. "I have evidence that could bury the entire Lucchese family. Marry me, and I'll help you destroy them."

On the night the family manor was set on fire, my husband Don Luciano Cacciola whisked Loretta Peri away. "Be a good girl and wait for me here, Tati. I'll send my men over to pick you up soon." As soon as he left, the explosions buried around the villa were set off instantly. That's when I sent Luciano one last text. "Luciano, we're even now." Rumors had it that Luciano had gone mad after that incident. As he gripped the burned ring, he purged the entire mafia family on his own. After that, he kneeled before my grave for three long days. When Luciano found out that there was a possibility of my surviving the explosion, he decided to give away half of his family fortune just so he could track me down. Three years later, Luciano stares at the woman, who's toying with a pistol, with red-rimmed eyes at the family's negotiation table. "Tati… Is that you?" I pull the trigger in response, causing a bullet to ricochet past Luciano's ear. "You got the wrong person, Mr. Cacciola. I'm here to take your life." As I watch Luciano kneel by my feet and press a kiss onto the tip of my high heel, I can't help but laugh. This time, it's my turn to choose.

When I drink the amber-colored poisonous wine, I can hear the joyful melody of a toast song coming from the manor. The wedding between Emanuela Romano and my ex-fiance, Benedetto Martini, is being held there right now. The elderly butler, Vincenzo Romano, puts away the wine glass with a blank expression. The way he speaks is as somber as one sounds when they give a speech at a funeral. "You know the Don's will very well, Ms. Andreotti. Five years are officially up, yet neither Mr. Andreotti, Mr. Martini, nor Dr. Foscari is willing to pledge their loyalty to you via the blood vow. According to the rules, you must take your own life within seven days. "The Don had left the Ashwine to you as a means of protecting… what little pride you have." Scorching pain begins spreading from my throat. I just smile at Vincenzo in return. Pride? Does a bastard spawn of a loose Iernian woman deserve to retain pride of any sort in the cruel Andreotti family? I begin making my way toward the banquet hall, which is brightly lit. As I walk past the shimmering waters of the pond in the family garden, I can tell that the waters are insanely cold. Then again, nothing is as cold as my icy heart right now. After taking a deep breath, I fall face-first into the pond… only to feel an iron-clad grip wrenching me backward. As such, I collapse onto the lawn heavily. My older brother, Alessandro Andreotti, has bits of grass covering his expensive suit. Disgust is written all over his handsome face. "Eva!" he grits out through his teeth, his voice lowered. "Must you spoil the mood on Emanuela's big day?" He then scoots closer to me, his alcohol-tinged breath fanning over my face. "You want to die, huh? Go ahead and do that, but can you die somewhere further? Don't stain the Andreotti land!" Alessandro turns to walk in the direction of the radiant lights, leaving me on the lawn, completely covered in mud. I can feel the countdown of my lifespan burning my insides. Seven days… I only have seven days to live. Meanwhile, my very own brother wants me to die somewhere further away.

I had been trying to get pregnant for six months. Ernest Marino, the Don of the Marinos, would personally make me a herbal brew every day to ensure that my body was properly nurtured. He watched me tenderly as I drank the brew and whispered into my ear, "You're a good girl, Mia. You need to drink this, no matter how bad it tastes, for the sake of our baby." When my full black hair started to fall, and my gums began to bleed for no good reason, I found out that it was not medicine I was drinking. It was an immunosuppressant. Ernest had spent six months showering me with adoration, turning me into the perfect organ donor. The herbal brew I had been consuming would make it so that the recipient, his precious stepsister with uremia, would not experience rejection symptoms. He thought that I was a woman who could be treated anyway he wanted. However, he had no idea that I was a Corleone. I was from Severia's oldest, most ruthless mafia family, the Corleones.

My marriage to Dante Moretti shocked everyone. I’ve got a fiery temper and I don’t back down. Three years into our marriage, the entire Chicago underworld knew we were at each other's throats. Except in bed. There, our bodies just fit. The only time we weren't at war was when we were tangled in the sheets, lost in a storm of desperate kisses and raw pleasure. Countless times, he’d tell me he was obsessed with my body, always right as he was sinking into me. I thought it was his way of saying he was falling for me. That all came crashing down at an auction, when he snatched my mother's heirloom from me, only to give it to her—a fragile-looking girl named Ava. That’s when he showed me a cruelty I’d never seen. "It's time for a reality check, Elara," he’d said, his voice cold as ice. "Marrying you, fucking you… it was all just to keep the peace between our families. Ava is the one I want to protect." But the day I finally left Chicago, the day I announced our divorce to the world… That cold, calculating Mafia Don hunted for me like a man possessed.

My fiancé is the heir to a mafia empire. For seven years, I believed our love was the one true thing in a world built on lies. Then, on the night of our engagement party, I found him holding another woman — my own half-sister, the daughter of our family’s oldest enemy — whispering words that shattered everything: "I regret everything. Come back to me, and I’ll call off the wedding." I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I made a phone call instead. Three weeks later, on what should have been our wedding day, I erased my identity and vanished from his world. But not before making sure our wedding would be one he — and every family in the underworld — would never forget.

I was once the most respected female intelligence officer in the underworld. I controlled black market trade, port lockdowns, and risk assessments for every smuggling route. These were the basics every new recruit learned on their first day in the Mafia. But my intel was never reliable. As time went by, everyone caught on. In this city, whether the ports were locked down or open for business didn't depend on intel. It depended on whether Vincenzo's childhood friend was in a bad mood. I had just sent an order over the family's secure channel: "Level-one lockdown. All shipping routes are closed." A moment later, the ports were thrown wide open. My rival mocked me in front of everyone. "Isabella's supposed to be the queen of underworld intelligence, isn't she? What happened, did she lose her touch?" Other family members twisted the knife without a second thought. "Her husband changes the rules at a word from his precious Amelia. Who's going to listen to her anymore?" "She's on the hook for any losses from this. That route reopening is going to bankrupt her!" I clutched a stack of formal censures from the family. I said nothing. It didn't matter. I was done being a pawn in their games. Soon, I would be gone for good.

Four months pregnant. I was alone when a rival family came for me.. A searing pain tore through my stomach. I couldn't reach my husband, Don Lorenzo. His phone was off. I woke up in a sterile hospital bed. Three days had passed. And the baby... was gone. That’s when I heard the nurses gossiping. “Heard Don Lorenzo cleared out a block of Fifth Avenue for his mistress three days ago. Had his phone off so they wouldn't be disturbed.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, but my heart was empty. I gave up my career, my whole life, for him. The Don who promised me forever… he shattered that promise just days before our fifth anniversary. Back home, I dug out an old phone and made a call. A number I hadn't touched in five years. "The European tour you mentioned…" I said, my voice hollow. "I'm in. I can be ready in a week."

Everyone said I was lucky. After the Don, Lucas Vaughn, brought me back to his estate, I became the woman he treasured most. He would halt billion-dollar deals just to be home on time to put me to sleep. He even learned sign language in secret, just so he could communicate with me after my vocal cords were damaged. At first, I didn’t dare give him my heart. Whenever he looked at me, his focus would drift. He showered me with gifts, yet always disappeared on the days that mattered most. As the child in my womb grew, and as Lucas’s devotion intensified day by day, I let my guard down. I devoted myself completely to the role of wife and Donna. Until the night I gave birth. I hemorrhaged during a difficult labor, but Lucas never showed up. After surviving by sheer luck, I finally saw the trending news. Lucas attended a Thames-side gala arm-in-arm with rising movie star, Serena Vale. That was when I understood. To him, I had only ever been a substitute. He broke his rules for her again and again. He indulged her humiliations toward me and even shoved me toward armed attackers at the brink of life and death. Filled with hatred, I closed my eyes and sank into the deep sea, just as he wished. Later, he knelt, clutching the hem of my dress, begging, "Zoe, please give me one more chance. I’ll repay you with my life." His life was worth too little now. I no longer wanted it.

“Help me fake my death and arrange a completely new identity.” “Donna,” the man was clearly shocked. “Why? The Don dotes on you. The whole of Sicily knows—” “That’s none of your business,” I interrupted him. “I’m leaving in five days.” Walking out of the black market, the LED screen in the square was still showing footage of my lavish wedding with Don Alexander three years ago, a ceremony that cost over $500 million. Everyone thought Don Alexander loved me deeply, and I thought so too. Until this afternoon, on our third wedding anniversary, I returned to Sicily early, hiding in the lounge of my husband—Don Alexander’s—office, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I saw his secretary hiding under his desk. While the underboss Marco was reporting the losses from the dock smuggling operation, Isabella was kneeling between Alexander’s legs, skillfully unbuttoning his trousers. Her head bobbed up and down. After Marco left, Isabella smiled seductively. “Could your Donna serve you like this during a meeting?” Alexander’s voice was filled with desire. His hands kneaded her breasts. “Sophia is too conventional, too boring. You’re much more exciting in bed, you little slut.” I covered my mouth, completely devastated. But when I actually left, the Don, who had found me boring, was the one who completely broke down.